


your flowers just died, plant new seeds in the melody

by LexTheMoose



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Getting Together, Kinda, Light Angst, M/M, Meta, draco likes gardening
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:21:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26629699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LexTheMoose/pseuds/LexTheMoose
Summary: Harry gets detention, and who does he find in the greenhouses if not Draco Malfoy himself, taking care of plants like it's just a regular Tuesday night for him.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 6
Kudos: 181





	your flowers just died, plant new seeds in the melody

**Author's Note:**

> In conclusion: I'm very soft for Draco who loves plants and making life out of soil and taking care of something after the war because it helps him cope and makes him feel like he's putting some good in the world for once. 
> 
> Thanks for coming to my TED talk. 
> 
> This could be a little OOC, but we only know what we see through Harry's eyes of canon Draco so ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Hope you liked this, please don't forget to leave a kudos/comment if you did!  
> Find me on tumblr: kingspapercrown.tumblr.com

When Harry has been sent to the Hogwarts greenhouses he didn't expect to find one Draco Malfoy there, his normally pristine hands covered in soil, nearly to the elbow where his sleeves were rolled up to. 

He noticed that Malfoy had gloves on at the very least, although Harry couldn't have cared less about the state of Malfoy's hands, of course.

  
He's just surprised to see him is all, dirtying his hand (or well, arms?) in the greenhouses and Malfoy is just as shocked to see him, apparently. Merlin's tits, is he blushing? 

Harry couldn't help the crooked grin spreading across his face at the sight of the blond's blotchy red cheeks, even though it only made Malfoy frown deeper than he usually does. Harry is seriously concerned sometimes that his face will stay in a permanent scowl if he's not careful.

"Weird to see you here, Malfoy. Did you get detention too? What for?" Harry asks, with a low snort. He didn't see Malfoy around too much this year, so he can't imagine how he got into trouble, but maybe Harry didn't pay enough attention.

Oh, who is he kidding? He definitely paid attention. Harry wouldn't say he was as obsessed as he was in their 6th year because... _alright_ he might have been a _little_ obsessed with Draco Malfoy that year. 

Still, he mostly noticed Malfoy not being very Malfoy-like this year, for a lack of a better word. Entitled git comes close to the right term. He didn't seek out Harry once to mock him, he didn't shout at him three tables away and he didn't even spread weird rumors about him. None!

He has been quiet, and stoic, not talking to anyone other than Pansy and Blaise.

_What an Ice Prince_ , Harry thought once when his eyes accidentally met with Malfoy's cold greys in class. 

Right now, Malfoy opens his mouth to answer Harry's question, with a sneer no doubt, but Professor Sprout who just put a huge heavy-looking pot down to the bench next to Draco on the bench cuts him off. 

"Oh, Mr. Malfoy isn't in detention, dear. He's been helping me out quite a bit for a few months now and I have to say it's greatly appreciated!" She beams as he turns to Malfoy, and puts a similarly gloved and possibly even dirtier hand on Draco's shoulder, leaving a dark handprint of soil on his immaculate white shirt.

Malfoy scrunches up his nose in disgust and it's nearly enough to make Harry burst out laughing. Not to mention how flustered Harry gets all of a sudden by that simple gesture. He has never seen Malfoy act like this, it's a glance behind his perfectly emotionless mask and Harry would love to take more than a peek.

"Oh, does he?" Harry asks, eyes not leaving Malfoy's, as if they have a staring contest, neither of them blinking for a few long seconds. 

"Anyway, I'd like you to plant these please, Mr. Malfoy here can show you how, if you're unsure." Professor Sprout says, gesturing at an assortment of herbs. Sage, all kinds of mints and ones Harry couldn't recognize. Small sprouts waiting to be moved into a bigger container filled with fresh soil. Well, Harry needs to do that too.

"There is no need, Professor I'm somewhat familiar with gardening," he says, dragging a huge bag of soil closer to the prepared planters on the table. He can't use magic, of course. "But I'll make sure to ask for Malfoy's help if I need it." 

Harry swears he sees Malfoy roll his eyes.

"Excellent, I'll leave you to it then, I will check up on you later," she smiles at them both, even Malfoy.

They work quietly, Harry shovels some dirt into the long pots and starts gently placing them in one by one and covering their roots with more soil. 

He chances a glance at Malfoy, who is separating the baby plants of a huge aloe vera into different planters. It is seriously huge, Harry has never seen one like it before, the pot takes up half the table Malfoy is working on, Harry is not far from him, side by side.

Neither of them speaks a word, there is only the gentle clank of a shovel every once in a while and the various other sounds of the greenhouse. It'd be almost peaceful if the tension between them wouldn't be so thick.

Malfoy is clearly tense, and his irritation seeps out of him, no matter how much he tries to suppress it. He was looking forward to a nice quiet evening, but of course, Potter was sent here to torment Draco. The greenhouse was his place! 

Somewhere he can rewind, turn his brain off, let all his frustration out on the soil, and pulling out weeds, also throwing out all his toxic thoughts in the process so the plant can thrive, and so can Draco.

But again, the very _root_ of most of his thoughts and problems are forced to be there with him, shattering Draco's peaceful bubble.

The tension that he always drops the moment he enters the greenhouses returns with full force, and he suddenly doesn't know how to act around Potter.

They hadn't talked this year, not much, anyway. Potter had spoken for him on his trial and Draco thanked him briefly, struggling to push away his pride. _He saved your life, be nice, Draco,_ a voice reminded him, strangely similar to his mothers. 

So he was, polite and cool when Potter stopped him to talk right after the trials. Because of course, he did, the stubborn prick he is.   
Potter also gave his wand back, and Draco felt somewhat whole again, touching the wood, the magic flew through his veins and thrummed in the tip of his fingers as if he was missing a limb before that he has gotten back now.

It accepted him again right away like Potter never used him temporarily, he knew wands with unicorn hair core were the hardest to turn to Dark Arts. 

It gave him a slither of hope that maybe, _just maybe_ he's not destined to be evil and he can turn this around if he wants to.

He didn't share that with anyone, of course. 

He shared very little of himself as of late, not even Pansy could coax his thoughts and real feelings out, see behind the "I'm fine" and dark circles under his eyes. Only on the darkest nights, when he needed to take a break from the sleeping droughts and he felt utterly alone, mind wandering back to a few years ago.

His room, the only safe space he had in the Manor when _he_ was there. But even then, the dark lord's presence trickled in through the gap under his door.

On these nights he felt his skin prickle and pull, like it was too small for him, the memory of the _Crucio_ coursing through his body, making his muscles contract and chill him to the bone, no warming charms could make it go away.

Pansy would hold him sometimes, in the silence of the common room. The fire was going, but they were sitting away from it, under blankets. Draco didn't like the fire anymore, nor Blaise who would join them every once in a while, one of Draco's hands clasped in his, Draco's other hand in Pansy's with two or three blankets over them all.

They looked out for each other as much as they looked out for themselves, they were ones of the very few Slytherins who has returned this year and it was mutual comfort and trust and _friendship_ , - the true deep kind, not the sort of friends Draco had before, - that kept them together this year. 

Draco thought they're almost like a couple of Gryffindors, or _Hufflepuffs_ , for Merlin's sake, but it never was that clear cut as he once thought, now was it?

He sometimes wondered if the Golden Trio has the same little routine on bad nights. Do they hold Harry too? Do they talk about the war and the people they have lost? 

How many times did Draco lay awake at night as a little boy, in the Slytherin dorms? Envy of them, angry at Potter for rejecting him, missing his mother. Nobody knew about these instances, of course, Draco has kept all this to himself. What would have the others thought of him if they saw Draco crying like a baby?

Oh, how he missed her when he was crying his eyes out, big, bitter tears because Potter didn't want to be his friend when Draco wanted it more than anything. And he couldn't understand back then, as a child who has gotten anything he ever wanted, _why_ Potter wouldn't want to be his friend.

His mother would've wrapped her arms around him gently, pressing her lips to Draco's forehead. She would have told him Draco deserved the world, and the stars too and perhaps looking back, that's why Draco was so entitled to everything, but it never mattered, because it made him feel better. 

She always did.

If only he wasn't at Hogwarts, the curtain of his beds pulled to hide his shame because boys that age don't cry. And they especially don't cry over rejected handshakes from The Boy Who Lived.

Still, Draco couldn't stop the tears coming and he knows now, that is when he started building up a wall of resentment for Potter.

And by now, he doesn't know where that wall went. Perhaps it started to crumble in their 6th year, despite Draco's best efforts. He broke Potter's nose, for fuck's sake. 

And yet, all his hidden feelings, the desire to be his friend, to be _more_ broke it down somehow. Because the wall wasn't built to keep Potter out, no, it was built to keep all of Draco's feelings in until they spilled over.

He wanted to ask for help. because surely, if anyone, Potter would help, Draco knew it deep down, no matter how much Potter must have hated him, his hero complex would've won if Draco has been honest and convincing enough of his intentions to change.

The flood came when he was sobbing into the sink in that bathroom, and his tears spilled out of him, along with all those feelings he locked away carefully. Up until that point, Draco almost believed he was salvageable. 

The moment he uttered the beginning syllables of the Crucio that never came, all his hopes of asking for help shattered. He was simply far too gone. 

And Potter sliced up his chest with the Sectusempra, leaving ugly marks and Draco still thinks he deserved it to this day. He should be happy he got away with as little as those, actually. 

It matters not though, he thinks, as he's dragged back into the present, by the sound of Potter dropping his small shovel and muttering a 'sorry'. Draco can't find it in himself to be angry anymore.

_Clumsy prat._

He's shocked and appealed by how easily and _fondly_ the thought came to him. Well, shocked is probably an overstatement. 

He never did get rid of those damn feelings he had for Potter.

They didn't talk up until Potter was finished, and Madame Pomfrey came to tell them they did a good job. 

Draco has been finished for minutes, but he wanted to wait for Potter to leave. He didn't want to walk with him to the common room in complete silence, after all, this last hour had been awkward enough, so Draco makes it look like he's still busy, moving pots and plants around uselessly. 

He doesn't see it, but he feels Harry's presence hesitate at the door, and Draco imagines him turning around, he feels Harry's eyes on the back of his neck. Why did that send a slight shiver down his spine? "I'll go then, good night, Malfoy."

"Good night," Draco says back and turns to finally look at Potter. He hesitates again, there is something in his eyes Draco can't place. He almost looks determined. 

Quite dangerous for a Gryffindor and Draco couldn't miss the spark of something strangely promising and exciting in his eyes if he wanted to.

\---

Draco considers not going to the greenhouses the next day. It's not like he's required to, he could easily skip or stop altogether until Potter's detention ends.

At the same time though, it was his place first! Even if Potter is only there for a week or so Draco can't give his space up like that. So begrudgingly he went.

Potter shows up roughly around the same time, and he smiles at Draco. 

What? 

"Hi, Malfoy. Nice to see you again, we don't meet much lately." He says and takes his place next to Draco.

_What?_

Draco must truly look gobsmacked because Harry laughs. He laughs and it doesn't rearrange Malfoy's insides completely. _It doesn't._

"You don't have to look so scared, I was just saying hello." 

"I'm not scared!" Draco huffs. "Surprised on the other hand..." 

"Oh, why are you surprised?" Harry plays along, with a hint of a smile on his lips.

Draco just shakes his head because he doesn't know what to say suddenly. Talking to Potter is—strange. This is the most normal conversation they've had since they were eleven.

"Well, anyway, Professor Sprout already said we should be replanting these together, so..." Potter gestures at the various plants.

_Wonderful,_ Draco thought.

He doesn't talk to Potter because he doesn't have anything to say to Potter, thank you very much.

Potter on the other hand, oh does he talk...

He tells Draco about Granger, how she's stressing over her finals like she won't get an Outstanding on all of them. Or he talks about Weasley and his sister, the names and sort of random information flies at Draco, and he doesn't seem to mind as much as he thought he would.

Draco glances back at him blankly, he stubbornly clings to the silence he's been keeping up since they started working.

When they're leaving though, Harry gives him an almost shy but undoubtedly genuine smile and Draco's stomach swoops at the sight of it.

  
"See you tomorrow, Malfoy. Hope you'll be in more of a chatty mood, yeah?" His smile turns into a grin and it doesn't even falter when all Malfoy gives him is a roll of his eyes. Harry leaves with a quietly uttered "good night".

How annoying.

However, he has to admit, Potter's voice was soothing background noise to their task and not distracting chatter like Draco initially thought it would be.

Draco finds himself in a much better mood after heading back to the right year common room.

That's a first.

\---

The third and fourth time they spend together, - Potter in detention still and Draco out of pure pettiness, not giving up his place - is surprisingly pleasant in Harry's opinion.

Harry decided that he'll make Draco Malfoy laugh and he is _determined_.

It's not that Harry doesn't feel strange around Malfoy anymore, but it's almost like they're stepping into another world in these evenings.

Malfoy somehow morphs into _Draco_. Draco, who is so incredibly precise even when it comes to dirt, and Draco who strokes his gentle, elegantly beautiful fingers—err, he strokes the leaves of plants, as if he's afraid he'd break them as if they would be something precious, not just some sage or whatever else.

He's not well versed in plants, unlike Draco, who seems to recognize them just by the shape of their leaves or he can make a very educated guess at the very least. He corrects Harry every single time and Harry got into the habit of getting the names of very easily recognizable plants wrong, just to get Draco riled up and lecture him. It's nothing more but a stupidly desperate attempt to get Draco to talk to him, and he's been catching on lately, but hey, it's working!

Harry is not sure when he started to like Malfoy, maybe on day four, when Harry did an awful impression of Ron and Draco's lips pulled into an honest-to-Merlin _real smile_ and Harry couldn't help himself he beamed back at him.

"You smiled!" He exclaimed without thinking.

And that is exactly where Harry fucked up because Draco drops the smile as soon as possible. Harry has been mourning it already, but then Draco tried to school his expression back into that usual scowl of his, but it resulted in more of a twisted pout, and Harry couldn't help but laugh a little.

_Worth it_ , he thinks, despite Draco's glare.

\--

The next time they have met at the greenhouse Harry was there because he wanted to be. His detention ended, but he thought Malfoy wouldn't mind the company, and Harry, if he's honest with himself, needed it.

It wasn't as bad as his obsession in the sixth year, and yes, obsession it was, even though he hated admitting it. There was no other rational explanation.

Or well, straight one.

How he woke and went to bed with thoughts of Malfoy swirling in his head, constantly having to know what he's doing, if he's up to something if he's alright even.

He missed a whole Quidditch match altogether, having spent the time looking for him, and even nowadays he takes the map out every once in a while, old habits die hard...

That is how he finds Draco (he has been Draco for a while in his head, Harry gave up trying to correct his thoughts) at the greenhouse, as he always is, nearly every evening.

Luckily for the eight years, the curfew is not something they have to worry about this year so Harry can simply go and sit down next to him.

Malfoy quirks an eyebrow at him, genuinely surprised and Harry tries to hold his joy back. They're still sort-of-enemies after all and who gets this excited about a simple gesture?

His lips still curl into a brilliant grin and he can't fault Malfoy for looking at him like he's crazy. Hell, maybe he is.

He is sitting here, not being in detention anymore, but out of his own free will simply so he could spend time with Draco Malfoy, the ex-Death Eater. The Daily Prophet would have a field day with this. Madame Pomfrey doesn't mind of course, and if Draco does, he doesn't say it, he only looks mildly annoyed by Harry's presence for the first few occasions.

  
Neither of them expected the slow but steady conversation that bloomed between them as the days passed and Harry found himself looking forward to every evening just as much as Draco worried when Potter was five, ten minutes late on occasion. He always arrived with an apology, and an explanation, like he would have to explain himself.

As if Draco would be offended that he was late, and Harry wasn't the one who started bothering him a few weeks ago out of his own free will.

But then again, he's less of a bother and more of a nice company at this point, Draco had to admit.

They both had to.

Harr has never in his wildest dreams imagined he would have a decent conversation with Malfoy.

That Malfoy would sass him back without venom and ill-intent and he would laugh, not at Harry, but with him! (He would laugh at Harry too sometimes, but Harry somehow doesn't seem to mind, not when Draco's eyes are bright and soft around the edges.)

And Harry found himself completely smitten by his once arch-nemesis.

He noticed the most mundane details as he watched Draco work sometimes when the conversation died down and it was just silence, comfortable, and light.

Draco is lifting a heavy bag of soil with the help of his wand that Harry knew all too well, the wand that defeated Voldemort.

Draco looks the exact opposite of what he did in their 6th year, Harry knows how miserable he seemed back then.

Some of the circles remain under his eyes, although it's nothing Harry hadn't seen in the mirror after a particularly rough night.

The color has returned to Draco's cheeks, however, and he smiles more, rarely sincere, and soft, but Harry treasures those even more so.

He treasures every smile, every touch and glance Malfoy would give him, he drinks them up, the pleasant warm shiver they send through his body and he's exactly three weeks into their little meetings by now when he realizes he might be a little bit in love with Draco Malfoy.

It's a terrifying realization that brings relief at the same time, it's a conclusion to all those years and complicated feelings, the hatred, that completely disappeared by now, morphed into careful affection and fondness for the other.

These feelings are still unsure and new and _strange_ , but as he watches Draco, wearing a frown of concentration on his face and the Dark Mark exposed Harry thinks he could love him, despite their rough past.

Draco catches his eyes over the neat row of growing herbs between them and for a slightly dreadful moment Harry thinks Draco sees right through him, but his gaze follows Harry's, at the mark and Harry watches him tense up and pushes his sleeve down, right away.

"You don't have to!" He blurts because he panics. He doesn't want this delicate thing to break between them. They just started to be friends. Draco meets his eyes again, finally, startled he looks eerily similar to what he did in the bathroom a few years ago.

Harry may have some apologizing to do as well.

"Er-- I'm not bothered by it," Harry flashes him a sheepish smile.

"I am," Draco says quietly, frown in place and Harry's stomach tightens with embarrassment. That's fair.

"I understand that," he starts slowly like he's approaching a wild animal. He doesn't want to mess this up. "But you seemed to be comfortable enough around me with it uncovered for days now. I'm just letting you know, Draco, I don't blame you. Or even-- hate you anymore for that matter."

Harry back at him with stubborn determination. He may have stumbled over his words a bit but he means every single one of them. They have fought enough.

"We have fought enough." He adds, gently.

He does take a bit of pride in how he seemingly rendered Malfoy speechless, he's so shocked and taken aback Harry has to suppress a grin and hold his tongue, keeping all the teasing on hold. For now, if all goes well...

And apparently, it does. Draco's shoulders sag as he relaxes slightly, he still tries to feign nonchalance, shrugging him off, and Harry would be cross with him if he couldn't read Draco particularly well by now.

"Are you offering me a truce, Potter?" He asks eventually and looks at Harry, eyebrows delicately raised. There is also a flush to his cheeks, and the tip of his ears Harry finds incredibly endearing.

"No, I'm offering friendship, you git." Harry rolls his eyes and sticks his hand out, making Draco scoff.

"Really? I could very well reject you. I can tell the wrong sort for myself, you know." He drawls, mimicking Potter's voice in an exasperated manner. Harry laughs, making Draco bristle further.

"You could," He grins, shrugging and hand still out, he's not backing off. "But will you? I'm serious, Draco." Harry says, his grin softens into a smile and Draco could never say no to those unfairly disgustingly beautiful eyes of his, could he?

Still, that doesn't mean he can't do things on his own terms. He walks around the table and pushes Harry's hand away and out of the way, but before Potter could even react properly Draco is reaching out.

He grabs Harry by that awful Gryffindor tie and pulls him in, feels the warmth of his palms on his shoulders as they come to rest there, to push him away or pull him closer, Draco doesn't know.

But then it's nothing compared to Potter's lips, pressed against his own, the surprised little gasp Harry pushes into his mouth.

Draco is ready to pull away, probably having misread the situation horribly, until he feels Harry's arms around his slim waist, pressing Draco right up against his body and kissing him fiercely.

Harry has to tip his head back, in somewhat of an uncomfortable position due to their height difference, though it doesn't seem to bother him. Draco wouldn't know, he's too busy going pliant and melty in Potter's arms right as their tongues meet.

Harry's lips pull into a bright grin when they pull back to suck some air into their lungs and normally Draco would be annoyed, if he weren't so dazed by that kiss.

"It never occurred to me to do that when we were kids and it's a shame because things would've turned out very different if it did." He says and Draco could hit him.

He could, but his arms wind around Harry's neck on their own and he's so _gorgeous, handsome, with pretty green eyes_ like this, who is Draco to tell his arms what to do? Or his throat, letting out a happy, genuine laugh he isn't used to hearing coming from him?

So he kisses Potter some more for good measure if only to stop him from making awful, very unfunny jokes like that for a few long minutes. 


End file.
